


The Eighty-Second Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [82]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Eighty-Second Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Eighty-Second Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. Honestly, I'm not responsible for any of it!  


* * *

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

ObSenad: Flames  
J/B NC-17 Do not read this if you're offended by strong language of m/m sexual situations. 

"Oh, man, son of a bitch." Blair slammed his hand on the table top as Jim came out of the bathroom. "I can't believe this shit." 

"What's going on?" 

"I'm pissed, that's what." 

"I'm a detective, Chief. Got a badge and everything. I figured that out. Now, the details." Jim walked to the counter and poured himself some coffee before turning to warm up his lover's cup with the new brew. "What's got you all fired up this time?" 

"Idiocy, rudeness, bigotry, narrow-minded bullshit." 

"That old story, huh?" Jim fought back a smile as he returned the carafe to the coffee maker. His partner's passion warmed him as much as the drink, inspired him to want to move in for a hug. Experience told him to hold off until Blair settled down just a bit. 

"Yeah, that old story." Running his hand back through his loose curls, he sipped a few times before he continued, his voice working the words out quickly, each one crisp. "It's just that I've got this friend who's into this stuff called slash and she wrote a story and she got flamed." 

"Slash? Flamed?" Jim sat down in the chair next to Blair's at the table and leaned in to read the words on the lap top, his eyes quickly scanning down through the page. 

"I explained that before, Jim. Slash is homo-erotic fiction written about characters on TV shows, you know like "Starsky and Hutch" and "Man from U.N.C.L.E." and a flame is when someone attacks you personally because he or she doesn't like what you write." 

Jim flushed slightly and smiled at the memory of his slamming into his curly-haired Russian agent from their role playing scenario following that informative discussion. "Oh, yeah, Illya and Napoleon in chains and leather, right?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. It's not all kinky, but it's all fantasy. Everyone who's into it, either writing or reading it, is supposed to know that, but unfortunately even in underground communities like slash lists, there are people who think that it's okay to denigrate other people for what they write." 

Jim shrugged and kept reading the story, "Illya Takes a Lickin'". His eyes widened and he coughed, "Hey, Chief, have you read this?" 

Blair leaned back and crossed his arms. "Yeah, so?" 

"Damn. Napoleon's got him over his knee and he's spanking his ass. Is this what your friend wrote?" 

"Yeah. You don't like it, right?" 

"Well, you ever try that on my ass, and I'll be bunking with Simon for awhile." 

Blair laughed and patted his lover's shoulder before kissing him quickly on the cheek. He whispered, his voice suddenly deep and husky, "Yeah, but what if I wanted you to give me a few licks? Would you?" 

"You serious?" Jim pulled away, studying his friend's face to gauge the situation. 

"No, but if I were, we'd talk about it. Still, that's not really the point. Like I said, whether we're into it or not doesn't matter. Some people like reading about it. It makes them hot or whatever. Pure fantasy. And that's why my friend Sasha wrote that. Then she gets this email telling her she's stupid and a waste and, well, it just pisses me off that some people can't let other people do what they want." 

"Did Sasha put warnings on it about the paddling business?" 

"Of course. But for this person that wasn't enough." 

Jim settled back in the chair for a moment, sipped some coffee, and the spoke quietly. "You remember Mikey?" 

Blair snorted, "Nobody forgets Mikey. Biggest Queen in the city." 

"That's because he puts on such a big show about being gay, which is his right, but then he turns around and makes fun of straights for either being offended or ignoring him. With Mikey, you couldn't win." 

"You never liked Mikey." 

"Mikey never liked me." 

"Your butchness made him nervous." 

"I know, but you're missing the point, Chief. Mikey's as bad as the cops who call us fags and queers and buttbuddies because we're open about being together. He's just as bigoted as any straight punk who has a narrow vision of how the world's supposed to be played out. Anyone off that path, well, he or she gets busted for it. Now you can either just accept and ignore it or try to fight it. Fighting's tough." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Sometimes the best way to fight it, is to ignore, Chief. I'd tell your friend Sasha just to ignore the punks and be grateful for the support of the rest of the community." 

"Like Simon, Megan, and the rest who support us, right?" 

"Right." 

Jim put his cup on the table and stood to move in behind his partner. Gently he pushed the curls from the neck and then kissed him, his lips savoring the salty rich skin. "Let's go upstairs, Chief. I'm in the mood to try out some more slashy scenarios all of a sudden." 

"Yeah?" Blair's breath quickened. "You going to paddle my ass, man?" 

"Actually I was thinking of a whole different brand of licks, babe. But you've got the ass part right." 

"Oh, man." The younger man moaned as his head fell back, more kisses and nibbles working deliberately along his shoulders and up to his ear. 

"You're my man, Chief." And his mouth covered Blair's, swallowing up the groans, the delicious rumbles swelling his groin with anticipation of meeting up with most fuckable mouth in the world, the mouth of the man he loved. 

The End 

Grey  


* * *

Tidbit #2 

ObSenad: 

"Um, Blair." 

"Yes?" Blair answered, the white shirt and black vest making him look dark and dangerous. The tight pants confirmed the latter. 

"I'm not wearing these." Jim held up the two cinnamon bun-shaped coils of fake hair. 

:-) 

Cynara  


* * *

Tidbit #3 

ObSenad: Gone [PG13] 

WARNING: Contains the implication of the death of a major character. Don't like it, don't read it! 

* * *

He's gone... I still can't believe it. Gone. Just like that. How fragile is life? When I left him this morning he smiled and kissed me goodbye, promising to pick up dinner before coming home. 

He was, is, my home. The first one I ever had. The only one. Traveling the world before you're ten is all very well, but in the end, all I ever needed I found in him. A place to stay, forever. 

I was lecturing to a group of students at the time. Halfway through a sentence I felt this incredible wave of sadness, loneliness and love, and I burst into tears. In the middle of a class. Next thing I know, Sandra's coming into the room, telling me there's a phone call. I started to get worried then. My gut clenched. Dismissing the students, I practically ran to the phone, telling myself it couldn't be true. 

I knew it could happen, intellectually, I knew it was possible. But we were so right for each other, I never allowed myself to really feel the possibility. 

And then.... Simon's voice on the phone and I knew. He was crying, and I shook my head, violently. Simon doesn't cry. 

"I'm sorry, Blair." 

Those three words tore my world apart, just as the three I'd heard from Jim last night had completed it. 

You know how when you get bad news, and people say the ground falls out from beneath you? It really happens. I'm falling, down, and the ground isn't there. Jim was my entire existence, and now he's gone. I feel like I'm nowhere, back to where I was before I met him. But this time, I know what I'm missing. 

I've been sitting in my office forever. Reliving over and over, my three years of life. Real Life. 

He always seemed invincible. 

-end- 

Erynn  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad: 

"Hey Jim! I found a very funny test on this site. It's about Star Wars." 

Jim vaguely growled a response. He was watching TV. 

"You answer some questions and you find which character is the closest to you." 

"Mmm, mmm," Jim answered. 

"Please, Jim, do it with me," Blair asked. "It could be really fun!" 

Jim sighed aloud. He knew his lover wasn't going to give up until he had what he wanted. 

"Okay, Chief, let's go," he said sitting next to his guide. "Did you do the test yourself?" 

"I'm doing it. I'm sure of the answer." 

"And?" Jim asked, interested. 

"Obi Wan Kenobi, of course," Blair replied with a little smile. 

He hit the button to get the answer and his smile faded: 

"Darth Vader," Jim read on the screen. "Congratulations, Chief. I'm living with the dark side of the Force!" 

"Do that stupid test!" Blair snorted, offended. "We'll see!" 

Jim obeyed. The response was Han Solo. He smiled at Blair. 

"I'll do it again!" Blair exclaimed, responding differently to the same questions. 

This time, the response was Princess Leia. Blair switched off the computer, definitely offended. 

"Princess Leia!" he growled. 

"It's not that wrong," Jim replied mockingly. "The hair... the same charming character... no, Chief, I'm joking... I'm joking... Please Chief, not the tickles!" 

Blair suddenly stopped his moves. 

"Hey, big guy, what do you think about playing one of the ESB scenes? The one in the Falcon, when they kiss? Why are you laughing like that?" 

"Okay, for the scene. But only if you put your hair like the Princess'. You know, the braids around the ears!" 

The end 

Mallory  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad: 

[Warning: This contains depictions of violence domestic abuse and the old tried and true DD stand-by, one of our intrepid hero's decides to be a hero and pisses the other one off resulting in someone's butt being tanned and the 'offender' who gets his butt paddled likes it...] 

* * *

Yeah, I paddled Jim's butt, and your probably wondering what was I thinking. The truth is I wasn't thinking period. I was reacting, reacting yet again to Jim thinking he's superman or something. A kevlar vest only covers so much - a bullet to the head will kill a man just as fast as one to the heart, but do you think he cares? Nope. 

He just has to play hero. It's probably my own fault, building up the whole Sentinel /tribal guardian thing. But then again, he was in the army, and I'm sure you've seen enough films that portray soldiers as heroes. I bet the military indoctrinates them to think of themselves as great American Heroes while they have them in their clutches. 

I'm waffling... Okay. Here's what happened: it was around 8.15 or there abouts. We'd just finished talking to one of Jim's snitches in some dingy little hole in the wall that laughingly called itself a bar and returned to the Expedition when a call came in over the radio. Jim, and by default, I, were called in to help the guys deal with a hostage situation. Some guy who didn't know when to say when, drank too much when he was feeling miserable about his 'bitch' dumping him - scumbag's words, not mine. His 'ex' defacto had put up with him for years, and had several children by him, but had got sick of his promises to change, and walked on him, taking the kids with her. 

More power to her I'd say, considering the story I heard from her about how this macho idiot thought it proved what a man he was to beat the living daylights out of his woman on a regular basis, not only in front of his friends, but the children. She'd put up with it, until he struck one of the kids too, then and only then did she walk. 

So what did he do? He got stoned, and drunk for good measure, griping about it to his friends, who off course being macho idiots in turn told him he shouldn't take crap like that from no bitch and to go and make her return. She had no intention of returning, and called the police when he came to her house kicking and pounding on the doors demanding entry and her return, or he'd kill her. 

By the time the police arrived, he'd smashed his way in through a window, beat her into near unconsciousness, and terrorized the kids. The police arrived just after he'd bundled her into the car he had no business driving. The kids did what their mother told 'em to do if their father showed up, while their father was busy stuffing their mother into the car, they ran for it, shrieking and screaming to the cops about his assault of the woman. 

This is the point when the man proved how idiotic he could be, instead of trying to talk his way out of it, or accepting being arrested, on a charge that would have let him walk with nothing more than a slap of the wrist, he just had to pull a gun he'd stuffed down his pants and fire a few rounds off at the approaching officers. One was hit, and went down. The second tackled the kids taking them out of the line of fire. That's when he jumped into the car, and sped away taking the woman with him. 

The officer called it in, and in no time at all the car was found, outside his place, which the kids had told the officers who took charge of them how to find. That's when the siege began. On his home turf, this idiot was dangerous, and he had a hostage to hold his gun to the head of, his ex. 

The swat team was called in, and so was Jim. The idiot withdrew deep into the dilapidated building he inherited from his father. He left a few nasty and lethal surprises behind as he moved through the house. The first attempt by the swat teams to sneak up on him, had resulted in one finding a Molotov cocktail set atop a door; it ignited when it fell and the liquid from it splashed the candle left burning there. Another swat member ended up needing to be transferred to the hospital to get a cross bow bolt removed from his side. Can you believe that, a cross bow bolt! That wacko's house was an arsenal, he had every kind of legally obtainable weapon you could imagine, and a few illegally obtainable ones too, and rigged the house with bobby traps involving most of them. 

And Jim thought he'd be safe wearing a kevlar vest... humph... Okay, so he had a bit of edge with his senses and managed to avoid being blown to kingdom come by the shot gun rigged to go off with a wire attached to the door knob in the room, just barely. But it was really a combination of his hearing giving him just enough warning to duck; if he didn't have fast reflexes, he'd be dead now. Kevlar or not, that shot gun was loaded with armor piercing rounds. 

After today, I know why he's always telling me to stay in the truck, or to stay put outside the danger zone and call for backup - it's because he knows I'd go ape-shit if I knew how reckless he gets when he's in full Hero mode. I could tell you about the rest of the booby traps that wacko set up in his house, but it would only curl your hair and make you seriously consider if the right to bear arms is worth it when wackos like that use that right to turn their homes into death traps. We got through it in one piece with no need to be carted off to the hospital, though we both needed to take a trip there after it was all over, to get stitches, him for a bullet graze across his arm, so deep that butterfly bandages wouldn't do the job, and me for a gash or two I got from flying glass and that maniac's hunting knife, after he somehow managed to get the drop on Jim. 

It was probably because Jim was concentrating so hard on trying to avoiding setting off the last booby trap -- the sort that involves C4. It was up to me to do what a partner does, and watch his back, covering him while he tried to defuse the bomb we'd triggered when we'd entered the last room between us and his hostage. Sure I had a gun, I had to accept that as the price of being Jim's partner, officially, but I so did not want to have to draw it and shoot that guy, even if it would have been doing everyone a big favor and saving the state a packet holding his trial. 

Firing a gun into the air, or deliberately firing close to someone to scare them is one thing, but someone that strung out isn't going to be scared into dropping his weapon and being a good little boy and surrendering at a near miss. Those self-defense classes I took at the academy and the moves Jim taught me after I nagged him to death paid off, after a lot of ducking and weaving I finally got the opening I needed, but it cost me a new shirt, and 12 stitches across the ribs. While he was off balance from the lunge, I chopped at his arm and hooked my foot behind his knee and hauled him so off balance he couldn't catch his balance. On the way down I gave him a knee to the nuts, and a rabbit punch across the back of the head for good measure. He dropped the knife and himself. 

Jim turned around after it was all over, ready to blast him to smithereens. The look of pure shock on his face was the final straw. You'd think after all this time he'd know better. Just because I'm a few inches shorter with long hair and pacifistically inclined doesn't mean I'm completely and utterly defenseless. The straw that broke the camel's back was discovering that there was a sewer tunnel under the house, and a trap door that opened into it - dug by that wacko, and that his wife knew it. She got herself loose and escaped into the sewer while her ex was setting up his traps and preparing to fillet us if we got past them. My anger with Jim didn't dissipate, I simply simmered through the final stages of the situation, the stitching of my wounds and the drive home. 

He should have been able to tell she was no longer in the house, that the hostage component of the situation had been solved. We could have afforded to wait that wacko out. His wife popped out of the sewers via a manhole in the road right under the feet of Simon and Megan. Five seconds after I dealt with Mr. Nutzoid and Jim deactivated the bomb, Simon, Joel and H burst through the door armed and ready to blow anything that moved to pieces. Jim should have known they were there, but nooo, he had to be a hero and beat all those deadly little traps, just to prove he could. Humph. 

Well, I exploded after we got home and Jim tried to join me in the shower. He thought my verbal tongue lashing was the end of it, but it wasn't. No sooner had I wrapped myself in my robe, then I went after him, backed him up into the living room where he tumbled over the couch. While he was trying to get his feet back under him, leaning on the couch, climbing to his feet, I moved in to pin him to it, rump sticking up in the air and let him have it. With every slap across the ass delivered with every ounce of strength I had, I roared at him - 'You're not Superman, Bullets don't bounce off, you can't see through walls...' 

It's not something I'm particularly proud of, it was more the shock and surprise of the event that allowed me to pull it off than any real intention to paddle his butt. When I was done, I stepped away, heart beating like a runaway train in my chest, panting, throat raw from shouting and he just looked up at me his face a picture of shock, humiliation and sadness. 

He didn't cry, Jim's too tough for that, but he looked at me with such sadness in his eyes, then he started babbling apologies. He admitted he was wrong, that he shouldn't have volunteered to go in before they'd gathered enough information about the house, a floor plan alone would have helped tremendously... I'm waffling again aren't I? 

You want to know the craziest part of it, after it was all over and I'd worked the anger out of my system, and went to bed? Jim took his shower and crawled into bed beside me, extremely amorous. Apparently after he got over the shock of it, it turned him on like nothing else, knowing that if I had too, I could defend myself, cover his back and even paddle his butt. 

It's the last time I'll ever do something like that in anger, but, it's not the last time I'll do it, because I swear he's baiting me. He wants me to do it again, I know it. When we're alone together, in bed, snuggled up after a hard day, too exhausted to nail each other to the mattress, he murmurs about how much he likes it when I get all dominate and show him what I'm made of. 

Who'd have thought that James Ellison, Super cop, Macho stud could get off on being dominated by someone like me. 

The end 

Red  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

ObSenad: 

a PWP :) No bondage, no discipline, just some fun with food. 

* * *

"Jim? What are you doing down there?" Blair was writhing on the bed, his face buried in the pillow, ass high in the air and his knees felt like they were going to take up permanent residence in his armpits. Something cold and wet was stroking his thigh and Jim was lapping at his balls like a thirsty cat having its first drink of water in two days. 

"Relax baby, I think you are going to like this." Jim stroked the heavy sac with his tongue, moving up to lap at the entrance to Blair's body. 

"Oh man, Jim, Jim! Hey man, listen, this is awesome really but please DO SOMETHING already!" Blair's head started thrashing around when Jim slowly entered his body with his tongue. 

"JIM! Oh man yes, gooooooood, oh Jim, please please," Blair thrust his hips back to try and get more of Jim's tongue inside of him. Jim brought the object he had been lightly stroking against Blair's thigh, licking the object once he soundly thrust it into his partner. 

"AHAHAHA JIM! Man, that's cold, but oh my gawd does it feel good! Move, do something, don't just leave it there!" 

Jim began thrusting the object in and out of Blair, turning it around, and finally pulling it out completely just as Blair was about to come, and repositioned himself so he was lined up and ready to strike. "Jim, you are looking to die? Come on, don't leave me hang..." Jim thrust himself hilt deep in one shot. Blair spasmed twice and came with a shout, Jim came not far behind. 

"Jim, what the heck was that thing?" 

"Well, you were complaining about how hot it's gotten, I thought an ice pop might cool you down. Then I found you up here all naked and thought that maybe I could cool you down that way." 

"Jim, I don't think I can ever look at an ice pop the same way again." 

"Want to know something? Neither will I, Chief. Neither will I." 

The End 

WeaverMage  


* * *

Tidbit #6 

ObSenad: Coming In 

A loud, overcrowded gay bar, long past midnight. 

"Hey look, Blair. Charley is coming." 

"Don't look at him!" Blair urged as he tried to hide behind Jim. 

"Why... I thought you two were seeing each other?" Jim asked puzzled. 

"He thinks we are seeing each other. Not me!" Blair hissed. 

"Why? I mean what's wrong with him? He's a decent guy. One of my ex's has been together with him. You can trust him. Blair, what's wrong with you? Every time a nice guy shows any serious interest in you, you start to bolt. You really shouldn't toy with another guy's heart." 

"It's not that, Jim." Blair sighed. He had to come out eventually. 

"So spill it!" Jim ordered. 

"I lied. About being bi." 

Jim stared in horror at his best friend. "What? Why, for god sake?" 

"Well, when I moved in and you told me that you were gay, I thought you would feel very uncomfortable around me if I was straight. So I told you I was bi. It was easier and I could still meet all these women," Blair whispered miserably. 

Jim looked sadly at his friend. "You thought I was that shallow and would throw your out? Thanks for that low opinion of me." Jim turned away to hide his disappointment. 

Blair reached tentatively out to his friend, Jim jerked away. "Couldn't we still be friends? I'll swear never to bring a woman to the loft and I would never say anything about my lifestyle. Jim, man, please!" 

Jim took a deep breath. "Okay, Chief, we can get over this, but no more lying, okay!" 

"Sure, Jim." Blair was relieved. 

They had still a future together. 

<g>

Angelika 

* * *

End The Eighty-Second Sentinel Tidbits File.

 


End file.
